


Cuddle Up a Little Closer

by sara_wolfe



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Exhaustion, Gen, Hand Feeding, Literal Sleeping Together, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-27 23:02:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19799557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sara_wolfe/pseuds/sara_wolfe
Summary: After a long week working for the Dowlings, Aziraphale and Crowley just need to rest.





	Cuddle Up a Little Closer

**Author's Note:**

> For a prompt at the Good Omens Kink Meme: Aziraphale feeding Crowley bits and pieces of something by hand. 
> 
> Title taken from a Dean Martin song: Cuddle Up a Little Closer.

Aziraphale had never before understood humans’ fondness for the weekend. One day was the same as the other, after all, and he didn’t understand what was so special about resting on those particular days, as opposed to any of the others. But that was before he started working for the Dowlings. 

He loved his job as the gardener. And he loved little Warlock more than he could have ever imagined loving any human. But love aside, the Dowling family could be very demanding at times. And Warlock was an incredibly hyperactive little boy - even for a child with his particular demonic origins. Aziraphale couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten more than five seconds of rest with Warlock always running around underfoot, demanding near-constant attention. 

And, Aziraphale reflected, wryly, he wasn’t even the one who spent the most time with Warlock. 

That honor went to Crowley, who’d followed him back to the bookshop after they’d been given an unexpected weekend off when the family decided to go on holiday just by themselves. Crowley not only spent every waking second with Warlock, caring for the boy’s every need, but he spent more than his fair share of time dealing with Warlock’s often-difficult parents. Demons didn’t often get tired, but lately Aziraphale had noticed dark circles under Crowley’s eyes and he couldn’t help but be worried. 

And speaking of-

Crowley was still standing in the doorway where Aziraphale had left him almost five minutes ago. Upon closer examination, Aziraphale realized that he was actually leaning against the door frame, letting it support his weight. His eyes were closed when Aziraphale got close enough to sneak a peek under his sunglasses, and Aziraphale wondered if he’d actually fallen asleep. 

“Crowley?” he prompted, gently, and he got a soft, wordless noise in reply. “My dear, come inside,” Aziraphale continued, taking Crowley by the elbow and steering him further into the bookshop when he didn’t respond. “If you’re going to fall asleep, there are better places to do it than in the doorway.”

Crowley made another noise, not even bothering to open his eyes as Aziraphale guided him through the shop to the couch he kept in the back office. In the doorway to the office, he gave Crowley a little push in the direction of the couch. 

“Go sit down,” he said. “I’ll grab us some tea.”

Tea only took a few seconds - a quick miracle, really - and then Aziraphale headed back to the office with a pair of steaming mugs to find Crowley sitting on the floor next to the couch, glasses off and blinking up at him in sleepy confusion.

“…how’d I get down here?” he asked, words slurring slightly together. 

“I think you missed a step,” Aziraphale told him, smothering a chuckle as he made his way over to the couch. “Would you like a hand?”

Crowley was silent for a long moment, thinking, and then he shook his head. “’m good,” he mumbled, eyes starting to slip closed, again. “I c’n sleep here. ‘s fine.”

“Have some tea, at least,” Aziraphale reminded him, handing him one of the mugs. “It’s warm, and it’ll make you feel better.”

Crowley just hummed softly, taking a small sip from the mug. He managed a couple more before setting the mug down on the floor beside him, slumping wearily against the couch. His head dropped to the side, resting against Aziraphale’s knee, but rather than moving away from the contact, he instead snuggled even closer, wrapping an arm loosely around Aziraphale’s leg to anchor himself in place. Aziraphale stared down at Crowley in surprise for a minute before he hesitantly reached out and carded his fingers through Crowley’s hair. Crowley sighed deeply in contentment, relaxing even further into the gentle touch. 

There’d been a few times over the centuries where they’d been this physically close - but it was usually under the influence of copious amounts of alcohol. Neither of them had ever been quite so brave as to get this close while they were still sober. But, Aziraphale reasoned (wondered, _hoped_ ), there was a first time for everything. 

They stayed that way for a few minutes more, comfortable silence filling the room as Aziraphale slowly, carefully ran his fingers across Crowley’s scalp, throwing in a gentle scratch here and there that had Crowley making quietly pleased noises that he didn’t even bother trying to hide. Crowley was a soft, pliant weight against his legs, and after a minute, Aziraphale maneuvered him to sit between his legs, giving him more support to lean against. Crowley moved like he was dreaming, eyes barely opening as he let Aziraphale reposition him on the floor, and Aziraphale was floored by the trust Crowley was placing in him. 

“Are you hungry?” Aziraphale asked, after a while, getting a quiet sound from Crowley in response. “Both of us should eat,” he continued, “if we expect to have any energy when Warlock comes home.”

So saying, he miracled a plate of fruit into existence on the couch beside him. Crowley still hadn’t moved from where he was sitting so, after popping a strawberry into his mouth, Aziraphale grabbed a grape and held it down to Crowley. But, instead of reaching up to grab it, Crowley just turned his head a bit and leaned forward slightly to close his lips around the grape. His lips brushed against Aziraphale’s fingers for the briefest moment before disappearing. 

“Mmmm,” he mumbled, chewing briefly and swallowing. “Thanks.”

“Do you want any more?” Aziraphale asked, and after a moment, Crowley’s head dipped in a slow nod. 

Aziraphale alternated bites between himself and Crowley, Crowley carefully taking each piece of fruit from Aziraphale’s fingers. He chewed slowly and methodically, resting between bites with his head pillowed on Aziraphale’s leg. His eyes had slipped closed again as Aziraphale started gently petting his hair again, almost purring with pleasure at the touch. It was a more peaceful time than Aziraphale had ever remembered spending with him in any of their history, and he never wanted it to end. 

But all too soon, the plate was empty, and Aziraphale didn’t have the energy to miracle up another one. Crowley was almost asleep in his spot on the floor, a heavy weight against Aziraphale’s legs. And even though he couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually slept, Aziraphale could feel himself growing tired, and his eyes kept drooping closed without his permission.

“Up,” he urged Crowley, quietly, tugging on Crowley’s arms to pull him into a standing position. “We can’t fall asleep here.”

“I could’ve,” Crowley protested, voice cracking on a yawn that dislocated his lower jaw far further than his human corporation had a right to go. 

But he stumbled up the stairs beside Aziraphale, wrapping an arm around his shoulders to keep himself on his feet. Aziraphale felt Crowley hesitate when they stepped into his bedroom, but Aziraphale tugged him toward the bed. 

“Will you stay with me tonight?” Aziraphale asked, hesitantly. 

He wasn’t ready for the casual intimacy they’d found downstairs to end, wanted to know that he would feel Crowley’s arms around him throughout the night. Sharing a bed was yet another thing they didn’t usually do unless they were very, very drunk, but apparently exhaustion made him as brave as alcohol was wont to do. 

And clearly Crowley felt the same way, if the slow smile on his face was anything to go by. “Yeah,” he agreed, miracling himself into a comfy pair of flannel pajamas with a wave of his hand. 

Aziraphale followed suit, the tartan of his pajamas barely even getting a raised eyebrow from Crowley, so tired he was, and then he slipped under the cool sheets and sighed in contentment. Crowley climbed into the other side of the bed, pulling the blankets up right underneath his chin, practically burying himself in the warmth. Then he rolled over until he was lying on his stomach, throwing an arm around Aziraphale’s waist and snuggling as close as he possibly could without actually lying on top of him. 

Within a few seconds, the slow, even cadence of Crowley’s breathing told Aziraphale that he’d fallen asleep. Aziraphale fought back sleep for a few minutes, cherishing the closeness with Crowley for just a little while longer, but eventually he could feel his eyes burning as he struggled to keep them open.

“Go to sleep, angel,” Crowley murmured from behind him, breath tickling the back of Aziraphale’s neck. “Everything’s still going to be there in the morning.”

“Even you?” Aziraphale whispered. 

“Even me,” Crowley reassured him. “So go to sleep.”

And Aziraphale did.

**Author's Note:**

> There was almost a line about "Crowley's snake getting out of control" that would have taken this fic in a decidedly non-G rated direction, but that's for another time.


End file.
